


Overtime

by xambedo



Category: Fairy Tail, Manga - Fandom, anime - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Lovers, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, Office AU, Office Sex, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Semi-Public Sex, Sexy Times, Shameless Smut, Smut, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xambedo/pseuds/xambedo
Summary: When Levy’s new promotion keeps her in the office on New Year’s Eve, Gajeel brings the party to her.
Relationships: Levy McGarden & Lucy Heartfilia, Levy McGarden/Gajeel Redfox
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Overtime

**Author's Note:**

> Idk I wanted to write smut and NYE seemed like a good theme so here you go you lucky ducks. I wrote this kinda quickly so I’m sorry for typos I was just in a mood. It’s also been a hot minute since I wrote from Levy’s POV. If this isn’t enough to sate your appetite, I'll be uploading the rest of my little oneshots to AO3 real soon!

Fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes until a brand new year. Levy’s eyes flickered tiredly to the clock by the window offering a view of the city far below, watching the minute hand drag itself almost reluctantly to that glaring nine. 

For most people, New Year’s Eve was cause for celebration, a reason to surround yourself with loved ones and drink yourself into a stupor. For Levy, it was just another deadline. 

Another night without Gajeel.

She’d always wanted to work with books. That much was true. And to think she could do that–marketing new stories, sharing them with the world–from such an extravagant office, lavish with furnishings she could only afford in her dreams, well, it ought to be a good thing. But this dark room, lit only by a tree lamp in the far corner, and the faintest lick of moonlight at the window, seemed vastly empty. 

The door to her office slid open and Levy almost jumped in her seat. Lucy sidled in, nodding apologetically as she retrieved a stack of books from Levy’s desk before shuffling out again into the shadows, barely uttering a hello as she went. At least one good thing came out of all this overtime, Levy supposed. She and Lucy were able to spend more time together despite being in different departments. 

The pang of loneliness in Levy’s chest turned to an unsettling nausea, and so she dimmed the screen of her monitor for just a moment. She lowered her face into her arms. It didn’t matter anyway. She’d never make the deadline–and what did they expect? It was New Year’s Eve. She’d felt sorry for most of the team, sent them home without a second thought. Okay, maybe a second and third thought, and a twinge of regret. But nothing more. She wouldn’t force them to suffer with her. 

The door squeaked open again, but this time Levy did not raise her head. Footsteps tapped from wood to carpet, and the presence that fell over Levy was almost menacing. She dared a quick glance over her arm, finding nothing but shadow and a partially open door. Slowly, she raised her head, and a pair of hands covered her mouth. She screamed, legs kicking the panel in the back of her desk, but the lips that sought her neck were scarily familiar. She gasped at the unexpected contact, blew out a breath that _might_ have sounded like a moan, and spun her chair on its wheels, catching Gajeel in the stomach with her knee.

“Shit, Lev. I came to surprise you,” he gasped out. 

Levy barely heard him over the blood thundering in her ears. “I could have seriously hurt you,” she said, and only a moment later did she realise how foolish that sounded. Gajeel would have floored her in seconds and left a gaping hole in the wood. She’d never met a man so strong. 

_Sheesh, Levy, you go to three martial arts classes and suddenly–_

“We don’t have time to unpack what you just said,” he teased. 

Levy quirked a brow. “Don’t have time? Or you’re worried it might be true?”

Gajeel snorted so hard it was a wonder he didn’t blow his brain out through his nose. Still, Levy couldn’t help but giggle. She’d missed him these past few weeks–working tirelessly in the office without time for so much as a phone call. She’d missed his voice and–he pressed a kiss to her lips, so soft and warm she almost melted– _sigh_ , his touch. 

“Don’t have time,” he said, “because we have fifteen–shit, thirteen–minutes before the scraps of your team barge in here to countdown with you.”

“And what are you planning to do in only thirteen minutes?”

“Levy McGarden, you flatter me.”

She’d barely registered the seduction in his tone when his lips crashed onto hers again. His hands caught her face hungrily, tangling into her long hair. Fingers dropped to the buttons of her blouse; they popped open willingly, as if the mere brush of his fingertips was enough to excite them. It wasn’t until he’d grabbed a handful of her breast that she remembered the crooked blinds hanging from the inner window, and the stragglers working desperately on the other side of the glass.

People who might see them. 

Levy pressed a palm against his growing arousal, let herself believe, for just a moment, that she wasn’t dreaming this. She was _exhausted_ , after all. And that she truly was this brazen.

“Levy.” The way he said her name was so guttural, so carnal, as though he lived only to devour her. And she wanted him to. 

She unzipped his pants, thinking little of it as he kissed her, his moans hot on her lips as she stroked his length. Her hands worked him quickly, with the expertise of a painter that knew well the stroke of a brush, and _oh_ how she liked the feel of him between her fingers. Liked the way he throbbed and twitched within her touch. 

He looked so handsome in the moonlight. Black shirt opened just enough to show his chest, and the small charm she’d bought him dangling around his neck, and the beginning of tattoos that scrawled low onto his stomach. Dragons and stars. 

She stole a glance at the partially opened door. He noticed. But not enough to care–until the click of heels approached it. 

Gajeel flew beneath Levy’s desk, his back to the panel, and she sank into her chair, barely holding her blouse together as Lucy slunk back into the room once again. She set her previous stack of books at the edge of Levy’s desk, but made no move to leave this time.

“Are you sure you don’t want to leave, Levy?” she asked.

Levy sighed. Gajeel’s hand brushed her thigh, nudging her legs apart. She grit her teeth and kicked him. 

“I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Everyone else did.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “You’re the best, Lev.”

Levy smiled. “No, no. You’re–” Her breath hitched. Gajeel kissed at her bare thigh–bare, because he’d just torn a hole in her stockings–his lips ascending too quickly for Levy to stop him. His mouth found its mark in seconds, pressed firm against her panties. She all but squealed as his tongue pushed them aside, gently, slowly, and took a playful jab at her clit. 

“Is everything okay, Levy?” 

Levy’s stomach knotted with an amalgam of feeling. With pleasure and panic and the overwhelming desire to run her fingers through Gajeel’s long, messy–

_Don’t let him get to you._

“Fine.” Levy bit her lip. “I’m feeling a little tired. That’s all.”

“I can stay with you, if you’d like? Keep you–”

Gajeel’s tongue slipped inside her, dipping into the heat between her legs, and Levy almost fell out of her seat. “No!” 

He and Lucy jumped in unison. Gajeel stopped his advances, stealing a glance at Levy’s face. Blood thumped in her cheeks. She cleared her throat. 

“You’re right. We have work to do,” Lucy said.

“Sorry. I’m just. I’m so tired.”

Watching Lucy’s back, awash with guilt–and knowing she’d have to explain _everything_ later–Levy’s hand slipped beneath the desk, caught a fistful of Gajeel’s hair, and pulled.

“Are you trying to embarrass me at work?” she asked.

Gajeel wasn’t listening. He hooked a finger inside her underwear and tugged it aside, kissing her entrance, applying enough force with his tongue that Levy thought she might disappear in her chair. 

“Gajeel, we really…”

“We shouldn’t,” he whispered, sliding a fingertip inside her. “But that’s why you want to.”

He was right. She knew he was. And not simply because his finger moved so easily inside her, exploring her slick warmth. She’d been ready to do this for _hours_ , imagining all the ways to sneak away and be with him again. 

He kissed her clit, tongue rolling in perfect motions, and Levy almost lost it. Her legs spasmed. She pulled his hair a little too hard–he actually yelped. 

“We’re runnin’ out of time,” he said. 

Levy whimpered. “Lock the door,” she breathed. 

“Wait, seriously? I was only teasin’. I mean–”

“Lock the door, Gajeel!” 

He did as she said, returning a moment later to scoop her into his arms. Clothes fell in heaps on the ground and the minutes passed, kiss by kiss, touch by touch. He pushed her against the window, gazing down into the illuminated city, and the mere thought of being caught set Levy’s heart on fire. The cold glass stung, but in a way that left her trembling in pleasure. He slid a hand around her chest and squeezed a handful of her breast, tracing a fingertip gently across her nipple. She shuddered. 

Five minutes. 

Levy gasped. Her back curved into his touch and she felt his arousal brush against her thigh. He was ready. She’d always been ready. 

Gajeel eased himself inside her, steady, cautious. She accepted him easily. Levy’s body collapsed against the glass, relief tingling through her veins, seeping into her skin. Her hands slid down the window. Gajeel’s arm snaked around her stomach, holding her close as he thrust inside her. 

Levy’s mind reeled with the scent of his cologne and the seductive smack of skin on skin, the senses she’d blocked out in this empty room, so full of dark loneliness, at once returning to her. Colours of varying hues danced across her eyelids; inner fireworks erupting. She cried out with the sheer bliss of it all. 

“Gajeel,” she moaned, and he knew what she wanted. He always did.

“You’ll miss the fireworks,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl. 

“No. I really won’t,” she panted.

They moved quickly, his lips hot and clumsy on her mouth, on her neck, as he set her down on her desk. Books fell with a clatter, and Levy mustered a laugh as he slid himself inside her, heat and heartache merging until all she could see, all she could feel, was the warmth of his body against hers. 

She threw her arms around his neck, kissed him with the fervency of a newlywed bride, heels locked against the small of his back.

“Happy New Year,” Gajeel whispered.

Fireworks exploded.

Levy moaned. “Happy New Year, Gajeel.”

And it was. For Levy. For Gajeel. And for the poor stragglers who’d overhead everything in the next office.

They never did make that deadline. 


End file.
